


you don't know what you're missing, now

by Steerpike13713



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Acts Like Endverse Castiel (Supernatural), Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Established Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Oblivious Sam Winchester, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:08:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713
Summary: Sam could have handled one intruder. The reflexes of a lifetime of hunting hadn’t departed him that far. Granted, yes, whoever it was that had broken into his and Jess’s apartment was clearly better-trained than your average burglar, but Sam had spent his whole childhood fighting things a lot more dangerous than this. Or so he’d thought until, just as the fight was starting to go his way again, the second intruder had come up behind him, wrenching Sam around by the shoulder and lifting him bodily off the ground. The intruder’s hand felt like iron around Sam’s neck, his feet kicking wildly, but never seeming to connect.The first intruder’s voice came out of nowhere.“Woah, woah, easy there, Cas, easy, I told you, it’s Sam, he’s good people, he’s not gonna hurt me.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 185





	you don't know what you're missing, now

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got prompted to write a synopsis for an early-seasons Destiel AU. Then, someone asked me to write the opening scene for said AU. And here we are.  
> This was a trip, and an exercise in both trying to figure out some Jess characterisation, because that is sadly somewhat thin on the ground, and remembering just how much or how little the boys knew at this point in their history. It's also my first time writing for this fandom, despite having hung around on the edges of SPN-fandom since I was fifteen. I'm a few seasons behind right now for various reasons, but...hopefully this is ok.
> 
> Title is from The Song Remains The Same, because sadly the show already used the actual title.

Sam could have handled one intruder. The reflexes of a lifetime of hunting hadn’t departed him _that_ far. Granted, yes, whoever it was that had broken into his and Jess’s apartment was clearly better-trained than your average burglar, but Sam had spent his whole childhood fighting things a lot more dangerous than this. Or so he’d thought until, just as the fight was starting to go his way again, the second intruder had come up behind him, wrenching Sam around by the shoulder and lifting him bodily off the ground. The intruder’s hand felt like iron around Sam’s neck, his feet kicking wildly, but never seeming to connect.

The first intruder’s voice came out of nowhere.

“Woah, woah, easy there, Cas, easy, I told you, it’s Sam, he’s good people, he’s not gonna hurt me.”

Sam knew that voice.  
“ _Dean_?” he choked out, “What the hell-”

The hand at his throat disappeared, and Sam was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, blinking up at his older brother, who was standing over him, looking amused and worried all at once.

“Hey, Sammy. Out of practice?”

“You scared the crap outta me!” Sam protested, still breathing slightly hard, his eyes going to the other intruder, who was standing next to Dean, looking down at Sam with wide, hazy blue eyes. “Dean, what the hell are you doing here? And who’s this?”

Dean and his friend shared a look. 

“...this is Cas,” Dean said, after an awkward second. “Cas, I _told_ you ‘bout my little brother Sam, didn’t I?”

‘Cas’ rolled his eyes. “Yes. Exhaustively.”

He was shorter than Dean, though not by much, with dark hair, a deep, gravelly voice and what was either several days’ worth of stubble or the beginnings of a scruffy beard. And, unless Sam missed his guess, he was wearing Dean’s old army jacket from high school, the one with the red patch on the shoulder where a werewolf had torn it open. There was a strong smell about him, of pot and patchouli, and Sam could see out of the corner of his eye the glint of a blade in his hand. 

Another hunter, then. Just what Sam needed. Although most of the hunters he’d met would’ve turned their noses up at associating with a man who wore Buddha beads and was clearly still at least a little bit high, going by the dilation of his pupils. Certainly Dad would’ve had a few unkind things to say about it.

The light flickered on.

“Sam?” said Jessica’s voice from the doorway. Sam looked around. So did Dean. So did Cas, his expression closing off like a set of shutters slamming shut behind his eyes, the blade in his hand disappearing up his sleeve.

Sam forced himself not to swallow or tense or do any of the hundred nervous habits that would give him away. “Jess, hey,” he said awkwardly, and then, because he had to say something to explain what was going on. “Dean, this is my girlfriend Jessica.”

“Wait, your brother Dean?” Jess asked, pointing at Dean. Sam couldn’t blame her. How many people’s siblings announced they’d dropped by for a visit by staging a break-in?

Dean grinned, “I love the Smurfs,” he said, gesturing at Jess’s top.

“I’m not even sure what a ‘Smurf’ is,” Cas said, bone dry, “Guessing they aren’t dangerous, or I’d have heard about them by now.”

Sam frowned at him, confused, and Jess looked like she was trying to figure out if that was a joke or not. Dean, though, seemed to take it in stride.

“Nah, man, it’s a kids’ cartoon. I know you’re into those. I’ll try and find it for you sometime, next motel we stop at.” Dean caught Sam’s eye and winced. “His family’s real religious,” he explained, still a bit awkwardly, “Didn’t let him near any of the nasty sinful fun stuff here on Earth, so we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

By the smell of him, Cas had already figured out weed, but the last thing Sam wanted to do right now was draw attention to it.

“...right,” Jess said, “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she added, looking at Cas.

“His name’s Cas, apparently,” Sam supplied. “He’s Dean’s…” he trailed off, realising he had no idea how to end that sentence. Hunting buddy? Co-conspirator? What _was_ going on here?

“Partner,” Cas supplied, with a wicked grin and a sideways, challenging flick of his eyes in Dean’s direction. Dean was avoiding his eyes. And Sam’s eyes. Actually, he seemed to have developed a sudden, rapt fascination with the rug Jess had picked out the week they moved in.

Jessica looked momentarily taken aback, then nodded. “Oh. Cool. Nice to meet you, I guess. Just let me put something on…”

Dean shook his head, finally looking up from the rug, “Uh- Sure. Look, it’s no big. I just need to borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but, uh...nice meeting you too.”

Sam knew he wasn’t imagining the edge of flirtation in Dean’s voice, but the flat, unamused look Cas shot at Dean afterwards was new. Huh. But if Dean wanted to drag Sam back into the life, he’d have to try a bit harder than that.

“No,” Sam said, going to stand next to Jess. “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

Dean’s expression went disbelieving, and he shot a look at Cas that said _can you believe this_ as clearly as if he’d said the words aloud.

Cas snorted. “Your father has gone missing,” he said bluntly. “Dean is concerned.”

“Dude!” Dean snapped. “I was gonna work up to it!”

Cas shrugged, as if he couldn't care less what Dean was going to do. “A full explanation would take too long. _I_ am going to take advantage of your brother’s hospitality. Do you just have beer, or is there anything stronger?” he added, glancing at Sam.

“What- Uh- There’s vodka, but…”

“Good enough.”

Cas disappeared through into the kitchen, and Sam cringed as the sounds of someone rummaging through their cupboards could be heard. Great. Well, one advantage of this was never needing to explain why he never called home to Jess again. He loved his brother, but neither he nor, it seemed, his new friend could pass for normal human beings for more than about half an hour for the sake of a case.

“So, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Sam said, keeping his voice steady. “He’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift or something, he’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

“Yeah...it’s a bit more serious than that.” Dean ran a hand over his face. “Look, after you left, Dad and me-” he broke off. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, it’s been more than a few days. And he- He called me up, yesterday. He doesn’t do that anymore. He didn’t say much, but it sounded like he was in trouble. Me and Cas are going to check it out.”

Sam had more questions than answers now. Starting with why Dad wasn’t calling Dean anymore, when Dean had always been the golden boy, the responsible one, the one Dad was willing to rely on. Going on through how long it had been, and what sort of trouble Dad must’ve been in that left time for a phone call.

“Jess,” he said through suddenly leaden-feeling lips. “Excuse us.”

* * *

He started in on Dean almost as soon as they were out of Jess’s earshot.

“I mean,” he snapped, “Come on, you can’t just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you!”

“You’re not hearing me, Sammy,” Dean retorted, irritatingly calm. “Dad’s missing. I need you to help me find him.”

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil’s Gates in Clifton? He was missing then too. He’s _always_ missing, and he’s always fine!”

“Not for this long,” Dean said, stopping on a landing and turning to face him.

Sam growled. “Then what about your new hunting buddy? He not good enough? I mean, I figure he’s got to be tougher than he looks, or you wouldn’t be working with him-”

“Put you on the floor easy enough, didn’t he?” Dean said, sounding downright smug about it. “Cas can handle himself. Best damn knife fighter I ever met, even if he’s not worth shit when it comes to guns. Got a bit of an Obi-Wan Kenobi thing about knives for some reason, more personal or some shit.”

Great. Marvellous. Dean is hanging out with a knife-wielding hippie hunter who likes getting up close and personal with his prey. _That’s_ not worrying in the least.

“How’d you pick him up, anyway?” Sam asked, because no offence to the guy, but he doesn’t seem the likeliest of friends for Dean to make. “And how come Dad calling you is suddenly a big deal instead?”

Dean shifted, looking uneasy. “Dad and me ran into him on a hunt, year or so after you left,” he said awkwardly. “He and Dad didn’t hit it off so hot, but he knew what he was dealing with. Better’n we did, it turned out. We went our separate ways, then I ran into him again a couple months later, on another hunt, we got talking...one thing led to another, we ganked the son-of-a-bitch we were after…” he shrugged. “Been together ever since. Dad wasn’t keen, but…”

He shrugged, as if to indicate this hadn’t been a dealbreaker. Dean Winchester, suggesting their dad’s disapproval hadn’t been a dealbreaker, even when it meant splitting up on a much more permanent basis than had ever been normal when Sam was with them. No wonder he looked squirrelly.

“Who are you, and what did you do with my brother?” Sam demanded, half-laughing mostly to show he wasn’t serious.

“Yeah, well…” Dean looked down at his boots, rubbing a hand over the back of his head. “Took me by surprise as well, but...we’re a good team. One of the best. You would not believe the stuff that guy knows how to kill. Like a walking, talking dictionary of the supernatural. You know he might actually be a bigger nerd than you? Plus, like I said, deadliest son-of-a-bitch I ever saw in a straight fight.”

Sam almost felt stung. It wasn’t that he wanted to go back to hunting, but that didn’t mean he’d wanted to see himself replaced.

“So why’s he working with you?” he asked, trying for lightness and missing it by about a mile.

“Fuck knows.” Dean was smiling slightly, still awkward. “Glad he is, though. Speaking of which, that girlfriend of yours is completely out of your league...”

Sam wasn’t sure how that was ‘speaking of’, but he wasn’t taking the change of subject either way. “I’m not going with you, Dean,” he said, as firmly as he could.

“Why not?”

“I swore I was done hunting,” Sam said, trying not to remember that night, and the row, and the look on Dad’s face when he said that if Sammy wanted to go, the best thing he could do was stay gone. “For good.”

Dean snorted. “C’mon. Wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad.” He set off down the corridor towards the parking garage.

“Yeah?” Sam snapped. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45!”

“Well, what was he supposed to do?” Dean demanded, turning to face him.

“I was _nine years old!_ He was supposed to say ‘don’t be afraid of the dark’!”

“‘Don’t be afraid of the dark’? What, are you kidding me? Of _course_ you should be afraid of the dark, you know what’s out there!” Dean retorted, as if Dean hadn’t been the one who’d said all those things at the time, when Sam was a little kid and couldn’t tell the difference between the things that were just in his head and the things that needed shooting was yet.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know. But still, the way we grew up after Mom was killed, and Dad’s _obsession_ to find the thing that killed her! But we _still_ haven’t found the damn thing! So we kill everything we can find!”

“Not everything,” Dean said quietly, so quietly Sam didn’t know if he’d been meant to hear it. Probably not, from the way Dean squared his shoulders and went on. “Save a lot of people doing it, too.”

Sam could have punched him, because that wasn’t the _point_. Saving people, yes, good, fine, but what part of that required them to give up any chance of any kind of real life for themselves doing it?

“You think Mom would’ve wanted this for us?” he demanded.

It was a bridge too far. Dean slammed the door through to the parking garage open and started up the stairs. Sam went after him, because that was what Sam did - he never could leave an argument half-finished. It was one of the things that made Jess say he’d be a great lawyer one day, if he could only learn when to take a small loss for bigger gains later on.  
“The weapon training,” he prodded, “And melting the silver into-”

He broke off.

Cas was already leaning against Dean’s car, smoking a joint and looking like he’d been there all this time. Except Cas couldn’t be there, because they’d left him still in the apartment with the bottle of toffee vodka Jess had been given by a friend as a housewarming gift and never got around to drinking. In this light, Sam could see the winding lines of a tattoo spilling over the skin at Cas’s collar, and more of them down the back of his hand, sigils on his knuckles the way another man might have ‘love’ and ‘hate tattooed across his hands.

Dean, of course, didn’t even bat an eye. “So what’re you gonna do? Just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life?”

“You _like_ apple pie,” Cas reminded him, blowing a full-on smoke ring apparently just to prove he could do it.

Dean broke off to glare at him. “I told you, no weed in my car, man, I don’t want that smell hanging around.”  
“I’m not in your car.”

“You’re close enough that the rules still apply. Put it out. Now.”  
Cas grinned, and very pointedly didn’t put the joint out. Dean groaned, low and heartfelt, but made no move to make him, and suddenly Sam felt every second of the four years he’d been away, making strangers of them.

“Not normal,” he said, “ _Safe_. And you clearly don’t need me anyhow, so-”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Objectively, most supernatural crises happen to people who lead ‘normal’ lives,” he said dryly. “You don’t even have salt lines across your windows.”

Brady had broken him of that habit inside their first semester, teasing Sam night and day for being superstitious until Sam let his precautions lapse.

“You don’t- The fuck, Sammy, don’t you want to live to see your fancy graduation?” Dean demanded. “When you ran away, I wasn’t expecting you to just fucking throw yourself off a cliff-”

“I was just going to college,” Sam said, defensive, and hating that he had to be defensive. “It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone.”

Cas hummed. “Well, _that_ sounds familiar,” he muttered, casting a significant look at Dean, who winced, and looked away.

Sam did a double-take. “Wait- Dean. You- You and Dad didn’t…”

It was almost incomprehensible. Wasn’t Dean the one who’d spent their whole childhood following Dad’s rules, parroting Dad’s opinions, enforcing Dad’s orders? Dad said ‘jump’ and Dean was already in the air before he thought to ask ‘how high?’. That was the way things _worked_ . It was the way things had always been. The thought of _Dean_ walking out on Dad was...inconceivable. Unthinkable. Except at some point while he was away, apparently someone had conceived of it, unless Sam was reading this whole situation wrong.

Dean grimaced. “Doesn’t matter. Dad’s in real trouble now, if he isn’t dead already, I can feel it.”

Sam just looked at him, until Dean broke.

“I can’t do this alone.”

“What’s he?” Sam asked, jerking a thumb at Cas. “Chopped liver?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I might be reading this wrong, but I think what your brother is trying to say is that he doesn’t want to do this without you. For some reason, _you’re_ allowed to say that your dad was an assbutt, but when _I_ do it-”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, while Sam was still processing ‘assbutt’. “You don’t know-” he cut himself off in the face of Cas’s withering look. “Look, you might not’ve thought he was Father of the Year, but he’s your dad too. You just gonna hang him out to dry? Your own father?”

Sam sighed. “No, of course not. But I can’t just...just abandon my whole life here because you’ve got a hunch, not if you have backup already. I- Call me if you find anything, or if you don’t. Or-” he cut himself off. “Just call me. I know we didn’t exchange numbers or anything before I left, but it wouldn’t kill you to let me know you’re alive every now and then. I mean, I didn’t even know you were doing solo hunts, let alone…” he waved a vague hand to take in Dean and Cas and their easy, apparently long-established partnership.

“I’m twenty-six, dude.”

“And the phone call?” Sam asked. “You said he called you?”

Dean and Cas exchanged another look.

“Voicemail,” Dean said, producing his phone. “Not exactly new, Dad hasn’t wanted to actually talk to me since...uh...anyway, yeah. Sounded like something big was going down. Bigger than the last job I could track down for him should’ve been.”

Sam looked down at the car, at the life he’d left behind. Dad had told him four years ago, he’d have to be in or out. And he’d said he was out, and he’d meant it. So why was it so hard to turn away?

“What was he hunting?”

It did sound freaky, but freaky in the normal way, for them. Dean and Cas certainly didn’t sound that fazed by it. That was half of why they were freaking out. Routine salt-and-burn gone wrong did not sound anything like serious enough to bring John Winchester down.

At least now, Dean didn’t seem like he was about to ask Sam to come with again. Except, once the explanations were over with, and Cas had gruffly suggested that they should get on the road to Jericho before the trail went cold, Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and said.

“Put up some salt lines. Don’t care what you have to say to your girlfriend to explain it, just...do that for me, okay?”

Sam sighed heavily, because he wasn’t a little kid, and Dean had no idea how hard it was to explain the precautions they’d been raised with to anyone who grew up in a sane and logical world. 

“Okay, fine, if it makes you feel better. Take- Take care of yourself. And-” he had to hurry to get the next words out before he thought better of them. “Call me. I don’t- I don’t actually want to go the rest of my life not hearing from you, you know?”

Dean had gone still. “What, so you think there’s some kinda place for me in your apple-pie life?”

Sam shrugged. He didn’t know what he thought. Jess would have questions, after this, and Sam couldn’t begin to think of how to answer them. But...whatever else was between them, Dean was still his brother. And Sam had caught himself wondering, a few times, whether Dean was still all right out there. Hunters didn’t live long lives, as a rule, and even if Dean was still young enough to be well within the law of averages...there weren’t any guarantees.

“Well,” Dean said, after a long pause, “Thanks all the same, but I don’t think Jessica back there’s gonna be too thrilled about having to explain to your kids why Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas keep carving devil’s traps into your fancy hardwood.”

“Devil’s traps?” Sam repeated, trying desperately to remember what one of those was supposed to be, but Dean waved him off. 

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Just- Take care of yourself. You don’t want to hunt anymore, that’s on you. Not saying I approve of it, but...whatever, it’s your life. That’s not the same thing as being stupid.”

“Plenty of people go their whole lives without ever being the victim of a monster, Dean.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well. Think you missed the boat on that one. Anyway, be seeing you. Bitch.”  
“Jerk,” Sam returned, grinning, and watched as Dean slid into the driver’s seat and the sleek black car pulled away. The world felt strange after it was gone. Like that unreal feeling between sleep and waking. Sam wished he could tell if he was waking up or falling asleep again.

* * *

Jess was waiting up for him when Sam got back in.

“I half expected you to take off with them,” she said. “Is your dad alright?”

Sam nodded, and got into bed to avoid having to look her in the eye. “Yeah,” he said. Lied. “You know, just a little family drama.”

“But your brother said he was in trouble.”

“He probably is.” Sam tried to make it sound...harmless. “Dad’s always in trouble. Few nights in the drunk tank somewhere won’t make any difference.”

He felt more than heard the rustle of bedclothes, the slight dip in the bed as Jessica got in beside him.

“Your brother seems…”

“Yeah.” Sam coughed. “Yeah. I know. Dean is...Dean.”

A pause, and then. “Your brother-in-law stole my vodka.”

“Yeah, I not-” Sam stopped. “My what?”

Jess blinked at him. “Cas? I mean...ok, yeah, gay marriage, still not a thing in this state, but…” she trailed off. “You really didn’t know?”

Sam went back over the conversation in his mind, but then- Cas had introduced himself as Dean’s partner, hadn’t he? And to someone who wasn’t used to hunting, who didn’t know about hunting, there were a few assumptions that went along with that particular label. Good thing Dean had been too distracted to notice, really. Sam couldn’t imagine his brother taking the idea of people mistaking him and his new hunting buddy for a couple at all well. Dean had always parroted Dad’s line, and even if John Winchester had never said anything on the subject, Sam could make enough of an educated guess to be pretty sure he wasn’t ever going to suggest _he_ might be less than a perfect zero on the Kinsey scale anywhere his father might find out about it.

“We haven’t exactly talked since I left for college,” he said instead. “Dad...wasn’t keen.”

“And now he’s managed to lose both of you.” Jess rolled over onto her side, facing him. “I’d almost feel sorry if it wasn’t all his own fault. So...this going to be a regular occurrence? Your relatives breaking into our apartment in the middle of the night?”

Sam laughed, soft and just a little hysterical. “No. No. Dean...I asked him to stay in touch, but…guess our lives are just too different. That’s what he said, anyway.”  
Jess shrugged in the dark, reaching over to catch his hand. “Well, maybe he’ll surprise you. Or you’ll surprise him.”

She tucked herself against his side, and Sam buried his face in her hair, and tried to go back to sleep, his body still keyed up and humming with something that might’ve been second cousin to adrenaline.

It took a long time for him to get to sleep that night, but in the morning, Dean’s visit felt like a kind of strange dream, something that could be held at a distance from Sam’s everyday life, with no sign that Dean had ever been there at all except for the jimmied lock on one of the windows and a spray-painted pentagram just inside their front door, that no amount of scrubbing would wash out.


End file.
